


Set & Style

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Inspiration Day at bsg-epics: "Something they're thankful for"<br/>Prompt: Laura's hair<br/>Bill has always been thankful for Laura's glorious head of hair, and now he's incredibly thankful she's off the hellish New Caprica.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>********************************************************************************************</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set & Style

It wasn’t the first thing he noticed. That had gone to the missing faces, missing limbs, a missing eye. But later, when they were face to face, his gaze skittering over every inch of her, trying to assess damages seen and unseen, it hit him.

_Her hair was a mess._

Tangled and snarled from downdrafts during the rescue, dull, matted with dirt and sweat, it told a tale of hardship and deprivation, of days when a comb (and the time to use it) had been out of reach.

It was minor, so minor in the aftermath. But it was something he could fix.

He helped her into the shower, and bit his tongue over the bruises, the fading abrasions hidden under her clothes. Questions could wait. They talked about what they’d been talking about since the rescue…strategies and needs of the Fleet, making plans, putting the pieces back together.

He worked out the tangles with the care he wished he’d lavished on her body when he’d had the chance. His fingers massaged the lather through the russet strands (he’d opened the last bottle of the good shampoo, the one he’d been saving for the day she returned), lifting away the dirt and dust of New Caprica.

That they were naked together again, what that meant, what it didn’t mean, he’d parse out later. For now, it was enough, to restore that glorious head of hair back to the way it was before.

She sat in front of him, both bathrobe-wrapped as he dried her hair, curving the waves into the soft curls that had been such a part of her Presidential look. One day, when he understood more of her time on New Caprica, he’d encourage her to recreate the slightly wild, tousled bed-head look that had helped charm him into smoking and singing under the stars.

Half-way through his efforts, she began to hum in easy bliss. It sounded like she hadn’t made that sound in a long time.

She didn’t preen in front of the mirror, exactly, but the smile playing around her lips told him she looked _right_ to herself again. She looked like the Laura she’d been before New Caprica.

“Thanks for helping me with my hair, Bill.” Her eyes slid away from his. “My shoulders have been bothering me lately.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

_Thanks for letting me fix just this one thing, giving me hope I can fix the next, and the next._


End file.
